


The best disguise is a smile

by annacec



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Gen, Implied slight PTSD, It's really only Bellamione if you squint, More of a Hermione Granger character study than anything else, Or just my random rambling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annacec/pseuds/annacec
Summary: As she sipped her drink she couldn’t help but watch the Bellatrix look-alike. It was like seeing a ghost, except that for ghosts were usually a pale phantom of their live counterparts, which this woman was anything but. This Bellatrix was the opposite – vibrant and bright and to Hermione, utterly fascinating and to her utmost surprise, she thought the woman was absolutely beautiful.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 1
Kudos: 64





	The best disguise is a smile

**Author's Note:**

> I won't actually claim this is any good, but I've had a hard time writing lately and then somehow I wrote this so yeah. There won't be any continuation, there isn't even really any point to this story. It's just here. Read if you want :)

It had been five years.

Five years since Hermione had walked away from the wizarding world. The war ended and it wasn’t long into the aftermath when Hermione decided to leave. She left, not running but not quite walking either, away from her newfound fame, friends. Family. Magic.

She’d meant to just take a break – head to Australia, hopefully fix her parents’ memories. When it didn’t go as well as she’d hoped, she’d gotten discouraged and her motivation had faltered. She had never really thought past Hogwarts, never really had the chance. Between learning magic, adapting to wizarding culture and _trying to keep Harry alive_ , there hadn’t been much time for planning, and without a plan, Hermione had felt rather lost.

So she wandered. Traveled, though the word travel implies a destination, which she never really had. She wouldn’t say she had been looking for herself either, since she did know herself, if not where she fit in the world. Magic had long since become a part of her, but it wasn’t all of her, and she found herself quite able to live without it. She’d go back, eventually, and it would always be there.

At first she really missed them, Harry and Professor McGonagal and Luna and even _Ron_ , despite the abject failure of their awkward half-beginning of something more. But as time passed the pain of missing them faded into an ache and eventually she leaned to live with to the point that she barely noticed it anymore.

Other things faded too, thankfully. The urge to whip her wand out whenever someone entered a room became a slight tensing of muscles. The way she would startle at every loud noise became a soft flinch. Eventually she stopped feeling like she needed to either save half of her meal for the next day or eat it as fast as she could before she’d be forced to abandon it. Slowly, Hermione healed.

It had been five years when Hermione walked into a tavern and face first into Bellatrix Lestrange. Or, well, it wasn’t her – couldn’t be, since she was dead. But the woman was her doppelganger, her spitting image, and it made Hermione’s breath catch in her throat and her stomach drop through the floor. She had tensed, ready to run or scream or whip out the wand that she never used yet always had on her person.

And then Bellatrix smiled.

It wasn’t a smirk or a grin, the word smile barely even covered it. It was a full on, toothy, genuine sort of beaming smile that made her eyes crinkle on the sides and small lines appear on her forehead. The expression was in response to something the bartender had said, something Hermione hadn’t understood since her German was quite terrible, and in that moment she knew – it wasn’t Bellatrix Lestrange.

The tense coil that had been building in her spine loosened with an almost audible creak and Hermione felt herself shrink several inches as she relaxed. She slid past the woman and into a lonely stool at the end of the bar, buying a beer and trying to decipher the smudged menu written on the wall behind.

As she sipped her drink she couldn’t help but watch the Bellatrix look-alike. It was like seeing a ghost, except that for ghosts were usually a pale phantom of their live counterparts, which the woman was anything but. This Bellatrix was the opposite – vibrant and bright and to Hermione, _utterly fascinating_ and to her utmost surprise, she thought the woman was _absolutely beautiful._

Eventually her staring was noticed and with an appreciative quirk of her eyebrow the woman walked over to Hermione, casually resting her bodyweight on the bar and placing her head on her hand with an open and friendly demeanor that defied absolutely every bit of body language she had ever seen Bellatrix exhibit. It was still a bit nerve wracking being that close to her but Hermione reminded herself that it wasn’t Bellatrix. It couldn’t be.

The conversation lasted only a few minutes, stunted by Hermione’s inability to stop gawking and make actual small talk. Eventually the woman left, going back to her earlier conversation with the bartender before heading back out into the dark and the cold. Hermione sat there for a bit longer, lost in her thoughts and the strange holding pattern that always seemed to capture the days between Christmas and New Years. Had they been related somehow, Bellatrix and the woman? Maybe Bellatrix had a twin – a squib given away at birth? It was unlikely, the Blacks were more likely to kill a child than let it be raised by muggles. It must have just been chance, some strange working of genetics that resulted in a carbon copy. It really was quite the coincidence that she ran into someone that looked so much like the woman that haunted her so. She feared it would take her back to that night, to the dreams and the nightmares and the thousand confusing feelings that had consumed her in the aftermath, but somehow it didn’t. Somehow, she felt better.

Maybe she would have done it anyways or maybe it was because of that night, but on New Years day Hermione woke up, gathered her meager belongings in her ever trusty beaded bag and took a hold of her wand. The wood warmed in her hand almost if it had missed her, and she smiled.

Moments later she landed outside the Burrow, the old dilapidated house looking exactly as it always had even to Hermione’s changed eyes. She clearly had tripped a ward since the inhabitants came rushing outside one by one, the shrieks of “Hermione” growing louder and more enthusiastic with each successive one. She was bombarded with questions immediately – where had she been, what had she been up to, why had she come back? The answers stuck in her throat and she shrugged them off, leaving the conversation for another day.

The whole Weasley family was there, including Ginny and a couple of kids that looked so much likely Harry she didn’t even need to ask about the parentage. She was just starting to relax, inquiring about when Harry would be coming home when Ginny’s answer made her heart skip a beat in her chest and a cold sweat breakout on her hairline.

“I’m not sure exactly, he had to leave right after Christmas. Auror business. Something about a spotting of Bellatrix Lestrange in Germany.”


End file.
